Monday, Monday
by fewthistle
Summary: A sequel to Between Bombay and Manhattan. A crossover with L&O:TBJ. A SerenaTracey femslash. Somewhat explicit.


Monday, Monday

Fewthistle

This is a sequel to the piece that I wrote for the Between Challenge, titled Between Bombay and Manhattan, featuring Serena Southerlyn and Tracey Kibre.

I.

Monday morning, ten o'clock and the rain inundated the city. Serena Southerlyn sat staring at her computer screen. She had read the same citation on Westlaw now four times. Just when she thought that she had managed to get her mind back on work, an image from that night would slip unbidden across her brain, and her concentration would shatter like a cheap champagne glass.

Friday night. Tracey Kibre, gloriously naked in her bed, head thrown back on that slender neck, her hands tangled in Serena's blonde hair, tugging her head closer. And the urgent pleas that had come from those bruised red lips. The memory of them caused a blush to start at Serena's collar-line and rise to stain perfect cheekbones. Graphic, torrid, detailed demands whispered hoarsely in that bourbon and cigarettes voice.

Shifting against the hard wooden grain of her chair, Serena could feel the pool of warm heat that rushed between her legs as the memories rushed through her mind. Frenzied, slow, lingering, fleeting, tender, callous. Meaningless, mind-blowing sex, that was all that it had been. Or as Tracey had so delicately put it, "a really amazing fuck". No future, no past, only the feel of skin against skin.

A one night stand, no big deal. Even if it was with a colleague. A senior colleague. One she had to see on a daily basis. One she had to pass in the hall, perfume drifting behind in a taunting haze of scent. One she had to sit next to in meetings, feeling the heat from that translucent skin through a thin layer of fabric.

She had traced with her tongue the outline of Tracey's appendectomy scar. She had tasted the liquid silk between her legs, lingering with the flavor of salt and sweet cream on her palette. She had felt the smooth satin of Tracey's thighs close around her head, almost, but not quite, blocking out the satisfying symphony of sounds that were wrenched from Tracey's throat as she reached the summit and hurtled downwards.

An encounter, one without consequences. No guilt, no commitment, no nothing. And yet, Serena couldn't rip it from her mind. She had awoken alone in her bed, the powerful, heady scent of sex lacing the air of her room, seeming to hang like a faint haze of smoke in the early morning sunlight. She hadn't expected Tracey to still be there. Still, the damp coolness of the vacant sheet echoed an emptiness inside of her that she had not expected.

It had been a long time since someone had unleashed that side of her, the side that didn't care if the neighbors heard, the side that wanted the woman lying beneath her to beg for release, the side that welcomed the less than gentle rake of fingernails down her back. It was a side that she had hidden, chained up in a politically-correct chamber in her mind. It wanted only heat and desire and wasn't interested in pretty words, and romance and flowers.

And it didn't want to go back in that room. Serena had been trying to force it back for two days, and two soul-crushingly long nights, and it wasn't going. Not for the promise of wealth, or power, or even love. More than anything, it had sensed the presence of another of its kind and the pull of unbridled lust was more than she could manage.

With a sigh, Serena picked up the phone from its cradle and dialed. After a few frantic beats of her heart, the line clicked and that voice, the one that had whispered, "take me. God, Serena take me now", answered efficiently and unemotionally.

"Kibre."

"Hi, its Serena. I just wanted to let you know that that sale on Manolos that you were so interested in on Friday is still going on," she said lightly, her tone a hell of a lot breezier than she felt.

"Really. Is this a private sale or is it open to the public?" Tracey's voice teased, caressing Serena's ears as unerringly as her hands had caressed her body.

"Definitely private. In fact, you're the only customer invited to an intimate showing. Interested?" Serena murmured, caught in the hypnotic tones.

"I think that I can probably make it tomorrow night. There were a couple of things that I wouldn't mind trying on again," Tracey answered, the smile touching her lips carrying nicely through the line.

"Eight? My place?"

"Make it nine. Dinner with Branch," Kibre chuckled, amused at the idea of sex with Serena after suffering through a meal with that hillbilly windbag.

Hanging up the phone, Serena turned back to her computer, a slow, secretive smile stealing across her face.

_Jack was wrong. Sometimes you do get everything you want, even the things you didn't know you wanted,_ Serena thought, as she began again to read the legalese on her computer screen. Monday suddenly looked a lot brighter, despite the rain.


End file.
